Breathe Me
by Cherie-24-Addict
Summary: A bottle of wine, asong for piano, and an angry, confused, heartbroken DiNozzo trying to explain the events up to 6x02.  Tiva, title is name of the song by Sia.  Part 9 of 15 in the Quinceanera series for my beta/bff.


**A/N: I know, I am a horrible person for not updating. But I had so, so much going on in the past week. Anzyways, this is for Iwait4theRain's Quinceanera series, part 9. (Party like it's your birthday!)**

He sat at the piano, touching the keys gently with his fingers. He hadn't played this old thing in years before meeting Ziva, and now that Director Vance had split up the team again, he was getting out of practice again. To tell the truth, he missed those Tuesdays like hell; dinner, a piano lesson for Ziva, and a movie of his choice in order to make a discerned, sophisticated movie critic out of her.

Of course, it was very hard to do this when critic-in-training would say that "American idioms drive me up the hall."

Ah, hell. It was Ziva. She was special, and so that summer had been special, too. Last summer had simply sucked. He had just broken up with Jeanne and had been trying to reacquaint himself with the team, considering how much he had lost touch with them. He'd tried to reconcile himself to the fact that he would probably always be alone, no matter how much he wanted otherwise, no matter how much he told himself that he knew better.

Soul mates. Ziva had asked him about soul mates, whether or not he believed in them. He'd brushed it off, even though the answer was obvious: _I love you quietly, from the shadows, so much it hurts like hell when you so much as glance at another guy._

And then, he'd known he was falling in love with Ziva. He'd tried to ensure that Ziva wouldn't be controlling his thoughts, his actions, every fiber of his being. As a result, he'd screwed up. As a result, Jenny had come home to Gibbs in a body bag, four bullets riddling her body.

Sometimes it occurred to him that he sucked at being a cop. He'd sucked at being in Narcotics, Gibbs obviously hated how much he screwed up, he couldn't save Kate or Paula or Jenny, he'd been stuck at sea for four and a half months, and now there wasn't really a ton here for him anymore.

Ziva had been hurt, caught in a bomb explosion in a Casablanca night club. However indirectly, it was because of his actions, his stupidity. He took another swig of the wine bottle resting lightly on the piano and began to play a melody that had, over the years, been ingrained into his head by Kate, Abby, and even Ziva herself.

_Help, I have done it again_

_I have been here many times before_

_Hurt myself again today_

_And the worst part is there's no one else to blame_

_Be my friend, hold me_

_Wrap me up, unfold me_

_I am small and needy_

_Warm me up, and breathe me_

_Ouch, I have lost myself again_

_Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found_

_Yeah, I think that I might break_

_And the worst part is I feel unsafe_

_Be my friend, hold me_

_Wrap me up, unfold me_

_I am small and needy_

_Warm me up, and breathe me_

_Be my friend, hold me_

_Wrap me up, unfold me_

_I am small and needy_

_Warm me up, and breathe me_

Memories from the past few years began to echo in Tony's mind, and no matter how he tried to stop them, he couldn't. He still couldn't let go of everything he'd done.

"That was definitely not your knee!"

"Chauvinist."

"You were not supposed to fall in love with the subject!"

"Do that one more time, DiNozzo. I dare you."

"Grow a pair, DiNozzo."

"Was any of it real? Was any of it ever real?"

"It's your team now."

"Agent DiNozzo, you've been reassigned. Agent afloat, on the S.S. Ronald Reagan. Pack up; you head out tomorrow."

And then, of course, there were inevitable memories.

Ziva saying to him, "You'll never get it."

Ducky giving him the wine stash after Jenny's death.

Discussing inevitability of love (or lack thereof) with Ziva while she joined him in drinking to black out.

And then, of course, the hot, drunken sex that followed said drinking. The hangover in the morning was a bitch, in addition to the fact that Ziva had left before he'd woken up.

A few days ago, she'd said to him, "You could have called." Yeah, of course, Ziva. "Hey, Ziva. How's it been since we slept together when we were drunk four months ago, figuring we were never going to see each other again?" Because that would go really well.

As he finished the last of the bottle of wine, it vaguely occurred to him that he might be turning into an alcoholic. Ziva and Ducky had seemed pretty worried about his state of mind in the two days since he'd come home.

He didn't know if he could do this anymore.

"I can't block you out anymore, Ziva!" he shouted to no audience but the walls of his apartment. "I can't get you out of my head! You win!"

A pause.

"Where were you when I needed you? Israel, that's where. Oh, I get it, Ziva. I totally get that you'd leave me here after three years of partnership. It makes perfect sense.

"You just love to piss me off, don't you? We do it to each other all the time. You know, you make me feel like we'll at least try to keep in touch, and then you leave in the morning. You leave me hanging, mind, body, and soul.

"Why do I have the feeling, Ziva, that unlike me, you'll never know what it's like to really love someone? You're just too wrapped up in serving the greater good to notice any feelings. I can't tell what the hell is going on. It pisses me…"

_Snore._ Tony slumped over the piano as he fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

**A/N: The review button likes chocolate, too, and your words are the chocolate.**

**Aka, review, please!**


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